The Dying of the Light
by mistraldespair
Summary: A missing scene from the 2k3 episode "Tales of Leo". On the run from the Shredder, Splinter and his sons struggle with the brutality of their defeat.


Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003) is property of Mirage Studios, 4Kids Entertainment, and Dong Woo Animation. This fanwork is non profit and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I've always felt "Tales of Leo" needed much more angst than was was depicted on screen and when research showed me it was more than a four hour drive from New York to North Hampton, I found the perfect window of opportunity for a missing scene. Title borrowed from the poem by Dylan Thomas. This story is a completed one-shot.

 **The Dying of the Light**

The journey from New York to North Hampton is a long one and it is freezing in the old trailer. I do not fare too badly, my fur providing at least some warmth, but I worry for my sons who are already chilled and shivering... though for the most part they try their best to conceal their discomfort. We have been travelling for little over an hour, there is still too far to go.

In my arms, Leonardo shifts his weight and groans. My eldest's face is twisted in an anguish I have never seen and I have not felt so much rage since the brutal murder of my master and his beloved Tang Shen. So much has already been taken from me. Must I now endure the loss of my child as well? My anger spikes and I have to summon every skill I have ever learned to supress it. Anger will not help Leonardo but as my brave warrior whimpers like a frightened infant I have never felt more helpless, and to be forced to admit this to myself is to feel an echo of the fear etched upon my son's face.

"Sensei?"

Across the way, Michelangelo speaks up like he almost dares not. He, too, has fear in his eyes. They all do. Even Raphael, who to someone unfamiliar would simply look embittered, is terrified. No amount of ninjusti training can prepare for the crushing reality of losing a a son, a brother and it is the hardest lesson to learn.

"Yes, Michelangelo?" I let him know he can speak. The sound of his voice in fact offers a momentary distraction for which I am thankful.

"Leo's gonna die, isn't he?"

It's something no one else would dare to suggest but, ever playing the part of the youngest sibling, Michelangelo's overly inquisitve mind seeks answers to questions which his elders are too afraid to venture. The question does not shock me, coming from him, but his brothers look horrified at the very thought let alone Michelangelo's decision to voice it, as though the mere act of admitting the possibility aloud could somehow tempt fate.

"Mikey!" Raphael growls and elbows his brother in the side, causing Michelangelo to become a picture of guilt as though I have not always encouraged honesty within our family.

"It is alright, Raphael," I say, raising a hand to prevent further ruckus.

By my side, Donatello is testing Leonardo's pulse, deep in concentration.

"It doesn't look good," Donatello sighs. I can feel his heart, as heavy as mine. In moments when one of his kin is in peril Donatello's expertise is a curse and a blessing, a great burden as well as a gift. I know his siblings do not envy his talents.

In response, Michelangelo lowers his head in despair and in this moment they all look so young, and my heart will break if I cannot be the strength they need.

"If we can just get to the farmhouse and get Leo comfortable, with enough rest..." says Donatello, trying to offer any hope he can.

I nod in thanks and silence resumes.

I focus all of my attention on Leonardo, offering what comfort I can through gentle touch and murmured words. The others give us what room they can in the small space but nothing can make time go by faster and the longer the drive the harder it becomes on us all.

At some point we stop as we near the end of the highway, April coming to see how we are as Casey goes to a gas station for some supplies. The thought of food reminds me how hungry we all are. None of us have eaten since breakfast and it has been an exceedingly long day. For the sake of Leonardo we must eat and keep our energy levels as high as we can.

After the brief respite we are moving again, off the highway as we near our haven not a moment too soon. The road becomes rockier and Leonardo frets against me as he dreams, not even sleep allowing him a release from his struggle.

"No...my family...won't let you hurt them..."

I put my hand on my son's brow to try and soothe him but I know the sorrow I feel for him is reflected in my eyes. Thankfully his own are closed and he is obvilious to his surroundings but his brothers are watching me intently, as though I alone can heal our fallen like I am some sort of mystic.

"Sssh," I whisper. "It is alright, Leonardo. We are safe. _You_ are safe. Please, my son..."

I cannot prevent the tear that falls from my eye. I do not know if Leonardo hears me but he does appear to settle, then, as I place a soft kiss upon his forehead. Michelangelo is weeping too and Raphael places a hand on his brother's arm, uncharacteristically tender and understanding as we share our pain.

This is our darkest hour, and as we finally reach our sanctuary I know things may become darker still.

The worst is far from over.


End file.
